Never That Simple
by 95Headhunter
Summary: A night of drinking leads to a night of contemplation for Marian Hawke, and having a free-spirited pirate in your bed doesn't make talking about feelings any easier. For the Champion of Kirkwall, things are never that simple. LadyHawke/Isabela


**A/N: There's a lot of firsts in this little oneshot. This is my first fic in the Dragon Age setting, my first use of an RPG protagonist that's actually defined and my first soppy romance fic. So be nice, but at the same time don't hesitate to let me know what you think. I had a lot of fun writing this, I hope you have at least some of the same fun reading it.**

xXx

The tankard clanked noisily as its ham-fisted owner slammed it back onto the gnarled wooden table, empty.

"Well, Hawke," the now sated dwarven patron uttered contentedly, "It's true what they say – ale does taste better when you've earned it."

"Earned it?" Marian Hawke cocked an eyebrow, mirth teasing at the corner of her mouth. "Varric, I'm not sure looting a sovereign from a still bleeding sword-for-hire counts as 'earning' anything." To her left, their dark skinned drinking companion chuckled, and hurled back another shot of whatever questionable brown liquor was currently in vogue among the more dedicated of the Hanged Man's somewhat less than prestigious clientele.

"Hey now," Varric frowned in an exaggerated imitation of wounded pride, "Bianca and I had to work very hard for that sovereign."

Now both of Hawke's eyebrows were raised. "Fine, fine," Varric shook his head, "_Bianca_ had to work hard. I just... coaxed it out of her."

Suppressing a laugh, Hawke drained the last of her ale and sat back. One of the tines in the back of the chair snapped with a splintering crack. Hawke let out a long, despairing sigh as she struggled to retain her poise.

"Why do I still drink here?" She asked rhetorically. "It just doesn't suit a lady of my upstanding character." She added, affecting a mock air of superiority.

"The company." The woman to Hawke's left offered, standing to plant a kiss on Hawke's forehead before staggering off haphazardly to the bar.

"I can have company at home." Hawke said airily to Varric, drunkenly leaning forward to seem conspiratorial. "Speaking of which," she announced a little more loudly, standing up, "I think I'm going to drag Isabela back to Hightown." The dwarf chuckled.

"She won't go easily."

"Kicking and screaming if necessary."

"I hope so, Hawke." Isabela grinned lustily at them from her slumped position against the bar. "Don't worry about it," she turned to the bartender, waving away a freshly poured drink, "in fact, you have it." She slurred.

"You really have to go so soon, Hawke?" Varric queried from his seat. "I haven't even had a proper chance to drink Rivaini under the table yet."

"Now Varric," Hawke narrowed her eyes, the alcohol making it irritatingly more difficult than usual to hold her own head straight, "the only table that Isabela will be going under tonight is mine, thank you very much." She added a few carefully placed finger wags for emphasis.

"Oh, I'm going to have to think of some damn good stories to trade for that one tomorrow." Varric grinned wickedly.

"Ah, my lovely Varric," Hawke giggled, reaching over to slide her fingers through the dwarf's blond hair, "this is entirely your own fault. If only you could get over your crippling species prejudice, you'd be telling the stories here. Not even my own gorgeous pirate queen can measure up to your..." She sighed heavily, pantomiming fanning herself, "... unrivalled manliness. Such a shame you're just not quite man enough to get over your prejudices."

"And give Rivaini here the chance to get her dirty hands on Bianca's delicate frame?" The dwarf laughed. "No chance!"

"Hey!" Isabela retorted, using her height to look down her nose at Varric. "I resent that. But he does have a point, Hawke." She began gently tugging at the waist of Hawke's robe. "My room _is_ just upstairs, we don't _have_ to go."

"I know what you think of Hightown, 'Bela," Hawke replied soothingly, "but my bed's bigger and comfier. And I don't have to worry about people..." she glanced around the bar furtively, "'listening'."

"Oh, that was a one off," Isabela smirked, "and besides, he was harmless."

"Isabela, he was hiding under your bed." Hawke still could not quite fathom exactly what had happened.

"He was sweet... when we got know him a little better."

"Heh, I'm not sure I'd call cutting a boy's clothes off with a dagger and marching him around Lowtown naked as a nug really counts as 'getting to know someone', Rivaini." Varric piped up, doing his best to stifle a laugh.

"Besides, it's not that much better at your place," Isabela said slyly, playfully poking Hawke in the stomach, "you've had your own little 'unwanted visitor'."

"Oh, that boy..." Varric shook his head, eyes swimming with mirth. "I'm just glad his new definition of 'boom' didn't stick, what would Bodhan have made of-"

"Yes, thank you Varric." Hawke sighed. "I do have a lock. And a dog."

"Okay, okay," Isabela threw up her hands in surrender, "I give up. Let's go have sex." She feigned a sulky tone.

"Lovely evening as ever, Varric." Hawke shot a beaming smile at the dwarf. "So glad we can still keep things so classy after all these years." She linked an arm around Isabela's waist.

"Give Bianca an extra rub from me." Isabela shot over her shoulder as the two women made their way to the door. As they stumbled out into the night, it was to the sound of Varric's raucous, drunken laughter.

xXx

Hawke gently rolled herself out from under the warmth of Isabela's arm and stared up into the darkness. She could close her eyes, she knew, snuggle closer to Isabela and try to fall asleep under her soft caress. But she also knew it would be futile. For whatever reason, she knew sleep would pass her by tonight.

By all rights she ought to be unconscious; perhaps that was the main source of frustration. Her labours trying to prevent the rising factions in Kirkwall from leading the whole city to slaughter seemed to be getting more demanding each day, and with no real happy end in sight. This day had been, as ever it seemed, full of violence. She had more than needed the opportunity to blow off steam in the Hanged Man; craved it, in fact. And any remaining energy had been utterly sapped by Isabela, who lay snoring softly beside her. Adding the stuporous effects alcohol on top of that and she should be out cold.

Hawke knew that it was simply things weighing too heavily on her mind, that whatever was fuelling her insomnia would not be solved lying in bed. Slowly, so as not to wake the sleeping pirate beside her, she slid herself out from under the blankets and into a dressing gown. Marian padded downstairs, heedless to the dark. After nearly seven years, she knew every inch of her estate. The buoyant effects of the unhealthy amount of alcohol she had consumed in the Hanged Man were gone, replaced instead by a throbbing ache in her head, a stiff queasiness in her stomach and a terrible taste washing around her mouth. Her thoughts, however, were unquestionably sober.

Upon lighting a brazier in the lounge, she was greeted by the manic, almost human grin of her mabari hound, who dutifully bounded over and nuzzled his master.

"Hello boy," Hawke yawned and settled herself into an armchair, letting the dog curl up at her feet, "can't sleep either, hmm?" The hound's only reply was a breathy whine. "Or have you been having bitey dreams again? Who was it this time? Not your own tail again I hope." The mabari gave a throaty rumble at that. "Oh, not more Templars!" Hawke chided, scratching the massive dog behind his ears. "I told you what happens now that I have to see Meredith so often. I got a severe telling off last time you forgot you were awake." The hound barked and wagged his tail happily. "Do you enjoy getting me into trouble?" Another bark. "Shh," Hawke giggled, "you'll wake up Isabela. And a cranky pirate is no fun."

"I'm already awake." Isabela's voice tumbled from the landing, and Hawke snapped her head up to see the captain-in-exile bathed in the glow of candlelight, wrapped only in a blanket, her hair tousled under her ever present bandana.

"I'm sorry, 'Bela, I couldn't shut him up." Hawke apologised, wincing inwardly. It was never wise to use the word 'cranky' around someone to whom the term was accurate.

"It wasn't Lucius that woke me. Not this time anyway." She said with enough of a barb that the mabari's ears flattened. "What's wrong Hawke?"

Marian's eyes widened slightly. Was that a genuine question? Certainly there seemed no jocular teasing in it, nor even any accusation. The only emotion Hawke could detect was concern. From _Isabela_? So unexpected was the intonation that Hawke initially found herself at a rare loss for how to answer.

"I... I don't really know." Hawke admitted, unable to provide a customary witty retort. "Just... things on my mind I suppose." Isabela worked her way across the carpeted lounge and perched on the arm of the chair, curling her body around Hawke's, her presence instantly comforting. She ran a finger through the tangle of Hawke's short, black hair.

"Tell me." She suggested simply.

"You'll laugh." Hawke warned, smiling up at her pirate queen.

"Probably," Isabela replied, "but I might not. 'Expect the unexpected'; that's our motto right, Hawke? Well, one of them."

"You always call me that." Marian said softly.

"Is that what's bothering you?" Isabela drew back slightly, running a hand up the sleeve of Hawke's gown. "It's just... that's how I think of you. You're Hawke. You're strong and proud and beautiful. Hawke just seems so much more... you than Marian does. Plus it's quicker to say." The last statement was punctuated with a kiss.

"It doesn't bother me." Hawke said, gripping Isabela tighter. "It's... you're right, you know. I _am _Hawke. That's what I've had on my mind. It's just me. I'm the only Hawke. Father... Carver... Bethany... Mother. They're all gone, 'Bela."

"But you're not," Isabela squeezed back, "you're still here and you're stronger than ever."

"That's not it." Hawke smiled at her lover, but it was a forlorn look. "All that work, everything we went to just to get this place, our name, back... it was all for Mother, and for Bethany. It was so that we could all regain our legacy. Now it's just me left to carry it on. And I think I might just have gone and fallen in love with a woman whose only dream is to get back on the sea and have all the amazing sex she can solicit." Isabela looked down, and Hawke kissed her on the tip of the nose.

"Hardly the beginning of a strong family line is it?" Marian sighed.

"Love does tend to complicate these things." Isabela shrugged. "That's why I like to avoid it. Well," she locked her deep brown eyes with Hawke's blue, "that's why I _liked_ to avoid it." Their lips brushed together, and for the briefest of moments, Marian forgot everything.

"I never planned any of this." She whispered. "If I had my way, Mother would be fussing over finding Bethany a man who found apostate magic a turn on, and you and I would be off adventuring somewhere enjoying lots of beaches and drinking and casual sex."

"Nothing's ever that simple." Isabela traced a finger along the line of Hawke's jaw. "You know that."

"I... I miss them 'Bela. I miss all of them." She blinked back the tears that began to well in the corner of her eyes. "I almost wish we hadn't gone back into the Deep Roads. My father... he did so much for me, for us. And I can't do anything for him. There should be someone to remember him. A Hawke to carry his name. But all he has is me.

"I'm sorry, I never wanted to pile all this... relationship stuff on you. All I wanted was you. I just didn't expect I'd _keep_ wanting you."

"I'm still here, aren't I?" Isabela kissed her again, and Hawke felt a weight lift. "Sometimes I can't quite believe it myself," she laughed, the sound so sweet that Marian couldn't help but laugh herself, "but I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you." She promised. At first, Hawke wanted to laugh at this too, at what the carefree, nymphomaniac pirate had become. But she sounded so sincere that all Hawke could do was pull her closer. "I'm an idiot for saying that. You are _nothing_ but trouble." The two grinned at each other.

"It's okay. I'm an idiot for telling you I love you."

"No," Isabela squeezed her hand, "you're not."

The two fell silent, simply sitting there for moments that felt like hours, the only sound the rhythmic thud of Lucius' tail against the carpet. Eventually, Isabela extricated herself from Marian's arms.

"Come on," she said sleepily, "it's... Maker knows how late. We need some sleep. I do anyway; you don't want me cranky tomorrow." Marian gave a sheepish grin at that.

"You're right," she sighed, "I think Anders still wants us to go crawling through the sewer tomorrow."

"The fun never stops," Isabela groaned, rolling her eyes, "you know I always suspected the man was really filthy under that pretty boy exterior. This wasn't quite what I had in mind." Hawke giggled. Slowly, she picked herself up out of the warm embrace of the armchair, yawning.

"When we do our best to make Varric jealous tomorrow," Hawke said as led Isabela back upstairs, "can we leave out the part where I became a weepy mess?"

"Only if we keep it a secret that I'm going soft. Having to see Aveline's 'I was right' face again would be... just too much."

"Deal."

"And Hawke?" Isabela asked as she slipped out of the blanket and back into bed.

"Yes 'Bela?"

"Don't worry about this 'legacy' shit. Let's just get through the next week. Maybe one day we'll talk about the future; you know, the _real_ future."

"Yes, dear." Hawke whispered sleepily, already wrapping Isabela's arms around her. And with a contented sigh, Marian Hawke at last found sleep.


End file.
